


Something Unique

by meshkol (ashernorton)



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Doctor Strange (Comics), Iron Man (Comics), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Magic, Skin-changer Stephen Strange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-01 23:06:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16774738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashernorton/pseuds/meshkol
Summary: For the IronStrange Reverse Big Bang hosted atIronStrange Haven.Stephen has an unusual ability, and Tony's quite tired of Stephen hiding it out of misplaced fear that Tony will balk.  He loves Stephen Strange, every single facet of him, and he's on a mission to make sure Stephen knows it.





	Something Unique

**Author's Note:**

  * For [meowrails](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meowrails/gifts).



> The ISRBB! How exciting! This is my response to [the glorious albaaca's](http://albaaca.tumblr.com/) art, which is embedded in the fic itself. Isn't it amazing? So glad I could write this for you, and I hope you're not colossally disappointed with what my brain came up with.
> 
> Fic was beta'd by the awesomesauce [sirenally](https://sirenally.tumblr.com/). Thank you for your help!
> 
> And, of course, thanks to [the Haven](http://ironstrangehaven.tumblr.com/). Merci beaucoup!

Stephen walks into the sitting room of the cottage in his skin.

Tony looks up from the coffee grinder and _tsks_ loudly as he turns the knob to start. There’s a gentle hum as the grinder works, but it’s automatic so he turns for the pot itself, keeping a shrewd eye on Stephen as he begins filling up the basin in the back.

Stephen rolls his eyes as he sits primly on the sofa and drawls, “I don’t know why you’re hissing at me – I can’t drink coffee with talons.”

Tony _tsks_ even louder and replaces the pot, reaching for the finished grinds so he can place them into the filter. As he works, he says cheerfully, “I’ll get you a straw.” That earns him another eyeroll, this time paired with a huff, and Tony grins, plopping the filter into place and switching it on. There’s a moment of quiet, and then the tell-all sound of water bubbling and being sucked up by a hose permeates the silence as he bustles around for mugs. Just to be cheeky, he gets out the Christmas ones – and hey, it matches the flavour of the season after all, so Stephen can deal with the ‘annoying Christmas inanity’ – and preps the glittery gold one with Stephen’s usual poison (a bit of hazelnut creamer and about a pound of sugar, the heathen). He adds a bright red straw for giggles and stirs the bits together absently as he continues, “And I’ve seen you drink coffee when you’re _au naturel_ , babe, so you can’t pull that shit with me. You promised you’d let go.”

Stephen stares at Tony for a long moment, a frown pulling at his full lips, and then he sighs. “I don’t understand your fascination with this. You hate magic, and you hate aliens even more.”

“Hate’s a strong word, but you’re not wrong in saying that I have an inherent dislike of things I can’t explain with science,” Tony admits honestly, tapping his free hand’s fingers on the granite countertop. It’s a slightly lighter brown colour than his own skin, flecked with black and deep brown spots, and it almost glitters in the early morning light. “But,” he continues, redirecting his gaze from the granite to the silent, impeccably dressed man on the couch, “I _love_ you, all the fun bits as well as all the unconventional bits. Besides, you’ve been itchy for a few weeks now, considering you’ve been bunking with me at the Compound, and you have to let go babe. It’s not good for you to not let your hair down every once in a while. Imagine the wrinkles.”

Yep, there’s yet another eyeroll, but at least there’s a hint of a smile on Stephen’s full lips now. It warms Tony’s heart to see it, and he wishes that Stephen would just listen to him for once instead of making assumptions about Tony’s headspace – he doesn’t know how many times they’ve had this conversation now, and it’s starting to wear thin. He gets it, he really does, but Tony’s not sure how many times he has to repeat himself like a broken record before Tony’s words ultimately sink in.

Stephen’s a skin-changer, has been every since he was very young and Karl Mordo had apparently done some weird...ritual thing to remove the future Sorcerer Supreme from existence. The ritual, according to Stephen, is almost universally fatal, as most life forms are incapable of incorporating the change without destroying themselves from the inside out, but Stephen had miraculously survived it. Now it’s a part of him, and increases his strength exponentially while also elevating his standing in his magical community because only the strongest people survive the ritual. It only shows doubters that Stephen _is_ the only viable choice for the title of Sorcerer Supreme, and no one can argue with it.

According to Stephen, he had hated it at first, mostly because his parents had been horrified and...not exactly supportive to say the least, but he’s grown used to it, and even loves his form because of the abilities and respect it gives him now that he’s a sorcerer. Stephen regularly has to switch back and forth, else the magic builds up and causes unimaginable pain (and can explode outwards violently, like a pressure cooker left alone for too long), and since becoming a sorcerer, he’s been free to do so, his fellow sorcerers even relishing his changes as a gift. It’s good for him, good for his mental health and for his badarse abilities in saving the world from the mystical, and Stephen’s thriving.

That being said, Stephen _always_ wears the human skin when he’s around Tony. Hell, Tony would probably still be completely ignorant of Stephen’s skin-changing if it hadn’t been for Doom – they’d all been fighting that bastard in New York when Stephen had been forced to change, and while Tony had been shocked beyond all belief, he hadn’t reacted poorly by any means. He’s kind of used to Stephen doing some weird shit, including getting possessed by random deities or possessing random deities _himself_ , so it hadn’t been too much of a surprise to learn that changing his apperance was an integral part of Stephen Strange. All Tony’d said at the time was _you have wings, babe; we should fly around sometime, make a date of it_ and then continued on with the battle. Then he’d repaired his armour in his workshop as per usual, brain going a thousand kilometres per second as he compartmentalised Stephen’s hastily-explained _I’m a skin-changer Tony, a shape-shifter if you will, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you_ , and then had come out of his workshop completely comfortable with Stephen’s ability.

Again, he gets why Stephen does it – Tony has a well-documented aversion to magic and aliens, and when Tony and Stephen had started growing closer after Titan until eventually falling into bed together, Stephen had hidden that part of himself because of said aversion – but Tony’s kind of over it to be honest. He loves _Stephen_ , every single bit of him, and that goes for the non-typical parts of him too, from his magic (that can’t be explained by science... _yet_ ) to the fact that he has fangs and feathered wings half the time. He wants Stephen to be comfortable around him, to let loose and be content with being in his other form around Tony, and not have to be wary or ashamed of who he is as a person.

It’s why they’re at one of Tony’s properties, a quaint little cabin in Canada, for a well-deserved Christmas break. Well, if a ten-bedroom, twelve-bathroom house with six fireplaces and two kitchens can be called a ‘quaint little cabin’, but _anyway_. Stephen’s on a two-week holiday and Tony’d finagled his own crazy schedule to match it, so they’re sequestered away on a two-person retreat from all the insanity of their day-to-day lives. Tony knows that Stephen needs to shift back and forth regularly, at least two or three times a week, and the longer Stephen’s in his magical form, the more power he can store for the next big battle (and God knows that Doom’s probably gonna show his face again within the month). Tony’s knocking out two birds with one stone here: insisting that Stephen be _himself_ around Tony for a significant period of time, so Tony can really hammer it into Stephen’s head that Tony’s _more than okay_ with Stephen’s other form; _and_ allowing Stephen to remain in his other form almost constantly so he can store magic and power in preparation for Doom’s next move.

“Tony,” Stephen says quietly, pulling Tony from his swirling thoughts, “come here.”

Tony ignores the request for a second in favour of pouring their coffees, giving Stephen’s a few more stirs with the straw to really blend the mix together and melt the sugar, and then he picks up both cups so he can take them to the sitting room. He hands Stephen his coffee and then turns on his heel as sharply as he can, walking to the middle of the floor and plopping down cross-legged, shooting Stephen a wide grin. “Nope,” he finally replies through his smile, “I’m just gonna sit over here on the cold, hard floor by my poor, miserable lonesome until my boyfriend chooses to let me see and enjoy and _love_ every goddamn part of him.” He toasts Stephen with his black coffee cheekily before taking a quick sip that burns his tongue and placing it to his right. He reaches toward the closest table, where his laptop is, and purposefully pouts with a dejected slump as he boots it and begins coding; it’s rather dramatic, and Rhodey would probably berate him for manipulating Stephen, but Tony’s just tired of it all. He wants Stephen, wants him open and honest and at ease with himself around Tony, wants _all of him_ , and he can’t think of anything else to try. He just _wants_.

Stephen sighs and stands up, walking over. Tony keeps his eyes on his laptop, plucking away at the keys, but he can _see_ Stephen changing from the corner of his eye with every step he takes towards Tony. He grows bigger, darker, and the Cloak is changing with him, though Tony can’t see what form it takes. Stephen’s steps change too, the sound heavier against the burgundy carpet as his weight increases, and Tony knows that the talons on his feet would be clicking if it had been hardwood.

He feels Stephen slowly sink down behind him, looming and solid, and he can’t help but watch as Stephen’s legs cradle him, the downy feathers of his legs brushing against Tony’s jogger-covered knees. His legs, and by extension his feet, are so long that even at ninety-degree angles they stretch out impossibly. The talons are sharp and deadly, but Tony is more than comfortable, completely secure in the knowledge that this one man will never hurt him.

Fuck, but Tony loves him.

Tony reaches behind him to grasp one of Stephen’s arms and manhandles it until Stephen’s left arm is wrapped around Tony’s chest. He can feel Stephen tense at the proximity of those talons to his reactor and heart, but Tony hums in contentment and snuggles backwards, at ease in the cradle of Stephen’s hips, his solid and bulky chest.

“Is this okay?” he hears Stephen ask. His voice isn’t changed too much – deeper and more gravelly, sure, but ultimately recognisable and familiar – and Tony can feel the vibrations of it through the fabric and into his back, radiating all over his body. He feels so _warm_ against Tony, and it’s pleasant despite Tony’s propensity to run hot. He’s cosy and safe here, in his ‘cabin’ with his partner, surrounded by coffee and comfort as snow trickles down outside.

“Yeah,” Tony mumbles, a smile on his face. “If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have let you close, babe. This is perfect, and _God_ I love you.”

He feels Stephen’s bulk deflate instantly from behind him, a low exhalation accompanying it, and Tony’s smile widens as he reaches out with his right hand to snag his coffee. He takes a quick sip, rolling the liquid around his mouth as if it’s a fine wine, then swallows and says, “You’re amazing, Stephen. I know you think I’m scared or disgusted, despite me assuring you _a thousand times_ that I’m not, and maybe it’ll take more time for it to sink in, but no matter how long it takes, I just want you to know that it’s fine. I’m good—I’m _safe_. I’m not afraid of you, or even remotely put-off, because I love you, you idiot, feathers and all.”

Stephen snorts and then slowly pulls Tony in closer, nudging his head down so he can bury his nose into Tony’s greying hair. Tony can feel a soft kiss against his crown before Stephen murmurs, “I don’t tell you enough, but I love you.” There’s a brief pause, and then he adds, “Irritating personality and all.”

“ _Please_ , I’m fucking magnificent, you arse,” Tony shoots back with a laugh. He closes the laptop once more, moves it out of the way, and then does the same to his coffee before he wiggles a bit. Stephen obligingly lets him go so Tony can weasel his way around, facing Stephen dead-on as he rests on his shins. He knows that his legs are going to protest sooner rather than later – fuck, getting old sucks – but he’s unconcerned at the moment, eyes drinking in Stephen’s other form for the very first time up close.

He’s gotta admit that it’s jarring. Stephen’s features in his human skin are already alien and sharp in a way that screams otherworldliness, and in his other form ( _bird? moth?_ ) it’s even more vividly accentuated. His cheekbones are practically glass, cutting sharp under glowing red eyes and gaunt cheeks, and his lips are soft, twin peaks right in the centre. His nose is sharper, thinner even, though that’s probably due more to the soft light of the room and the dark circles of black that wrap under his eyes, making his cheekbones even more pronounced. His ears are pointed and small, and there’s a single feather that sprouts out of each tip like a leaf on a branch. His skin is a deep indigo, and interestingly enough, it’s almost downy, soft and fuzzy like one of the grease flannels from Tony’s shop. The only thing that’s even slightly familiar, other than Stephen’s characteristically sharp facial features, is his hair, thick and full atop his head though it is _bigger_ for lack of a better word.

It’s jarring but extraordinarily beautiful despite it, or perhaps _because_ of it. He wants to touch, see if Stephen’s hair feels coarser beneath his fingers, feel if his downy felt catches on his rough palms like his grease flannels do or if it’s soft like velvet, and Tony’s not known for his self-control so he does it. His fingers, thick and scarred and steady, caress every bit of Stephen he can reach, his normally-olive skin looking bizarrely pale against Stephen’s dark colouring. It’s a beautiful contrast, his eyes tracing his own fingers as they explore and memorise by touch, and Stephen’s glowing eyes watch him quietly, like a brand that shivers down his spine.

He tries for a joke as his thumbs stroke the sharp ridges of Stephen’s cheekbones: “You’re so fluffy!” It’s belied by the winded awe in his voice, but it gets a smile out of Stephen regardless. Tony’s fascinated by his teeth, teeth he’s slipped his tongue past save the elongated canines that are sharp like fangs, and he can’t take his eyes off them. He wonders what it’d feel like to kiss those lips, because jarring skin aside, it’s still Stephen, and he has to admit that he’s curious as fuck.

So Tony does.

Stephen’s saying in his smooth voice “You are the biggest idi—” and then nothing, because Tony’s pressed against him, swallowing Stephen’s words with a soft sound at the feel of those full lips against his. His fingers wind into Stephen’s thick hair and his tongue tentatively flicks inside, feeling the sharp points of Stephen’s canines and tasting the familiar flavour of Stephen’s mouth.

It’s only a split second, Stephen frozen against him, and then he pulls away. Tony lets out a little, involuntary mewl of protest, instinctively chasing Stephen’s lips, but Stephen keeps him separated with his forearm. “It’s dangerous,” Stephen says, smooth and even, but Tony can hear the slight catch in his words. Tony opens his mouth to argue that he can hear that Stephen was aroused by it, at least mentally judging by the lack of a hard prick (and _oh_ , Tony wonders what _that_ looks like, or if he even has one), but Stephen continues a little more loudly, “So you’re interested. That’s fine, and it’s actually rather heartening to see you react so well to...me, like this. You have no idea what that does to me, Tony. But it stops there, okay? I don’t have even remotely familiar human responses to sexual stimuli like you’re used to, and I could hurt you on top of it all. If we’re going to get intimate, I _will_ be in my human skin, and that is a line for me, okay?”

Tony swallows down the arguments he wants to make – like magical assistance and making out only and fiddling with whatever Stephen’s ‘happy spots’ are and rubbing one out on his soft indigo feathers – because Stephen’s comfort and consent is the most important thing. While Tony’s not really known for _not_ arguing and negotiating about things leading to happy endings, Stephen obviously has his reasons and it’s not Tony’s place to prod and poke at limits. Stretch them in some scenarios, sure, but he won’t come anywhere close to a line.

“Okay,” he says honestly. “I’m good with that. I kinda want to know what it feels like to rub all over you like that, but seriously, it’s totally fine.” Stephen smiles, his teeth sharp and glinting in the gold light, and Tony nods once before pressing a soft kiss against a sharp, downy cheekbone and adding cheerfully, “So I guess this means that we’re going to be celibate for two weeks?”

Stephen’s eyes are a solid, glowing red, so Tony can’t tell if they roll or not, but Tony’s pretty sure they do regardless, because Stephen’s the runner-up for King of the Eyeroll (Tony’s first, _obviously_ ). “I’m absolutely certain that neither one of us could hold out that long—” And that’s fair, to be honest; they’re both perpetually in that honeymoon _must-always-be-having-sex_ phase, despite two years of dating, and Tony sniggers. “—and besides, if I stay in this skin for a solid two weeks, I’ll end up levelling a few city blocks in my next battle, and I’d like to avoid all that tedious paperwork.”

Tony’s sniggers turn into full-out barks of laughter, and he curls into Stephen, helplessly laughing as Stephen chuckles along, wrapping his thick, feathery arms around him to cocoon Tony in warmth.

Their coffees are forgotten in exchange for ease and mirth, and Tony couldn’t be happier.


End file.
